forever's not so long
forever's not so long, Nine/Rose, PG
Summary: The Doctor regenerates. Title and inspiration from How it Ends by Devotchka. Best read while listening to it.
He has never been so ecstatic to die, 679
Moments before she comes back, the Doctor is aware- painfully so- of his last heartbeats. His skin. Timelines snapping into place like synapses firing. He's got this sense that it was always going to end like this, even if he can't explain what this is yet. That this is the only way it could end.
And then, golden light, his goddess. Both expected and dreaded and nothing he'd ever considered. She was supposed to stay put, he thinks, and realizes of course she never would. He knew that when he sent her away, too. Had to have.
She destroys everything without blinking. He feels himself frozen, but inside he is fear, laughter, joy and it is explosive, manic. “I can see everything,” she says, tears and light flowing from her eyes. She is as beautiful as he's ever seen her. He sees her: grinning with a chip in her mouth. Her shoulders in a long black dress, almost as beautiful as the wonder in her eyes. Swinging from a chain to save his life. Crying over her father before letting him take her hand and take her away. Taking his hand under the icy waves of Woman Wept. He sees everything leading up to this moment: she is bathed in time and glorious, powerful and proud. He looks at her and can see everything, too.
Now she's sharing his burden. Taking it from him without his permission- the guilt he tried so hard to hold onto, the anger and grief. He didn't want her to take it but she did. She obliterates it as easily as she does the Time War, the Daleks, turning it to dust like they tried to do to her. She is unstoppable and he knows her intimately in that moment, knows that nothing will ever be so worthy of this miserable life as she is.
Rose. He has never been so ecstatic to die, because he knew it would end like this, somehow. That this body would not stay very long as long as she was in his life- not because she was jeopardy friendly, but because this body was made for grief and guilt and she would not allow it for long. He will die for her like he knew all along.
But not without her kiss. Her lips stop time, that beautiful mouth that he'd dreamed about, had admired as it spread over countless guileless smiles. “I think you need a doctor,” he almost laughs, hears Jack in the words.
On the ship, he doesn't want tell her what will happen. He is selfish and jealous. If she rejects him, he wants it to be while he is in the next body. But it doesn't matter because she doesn't understand. This life with her will stay safe in his memory if it is the last thing he does. It is. He knew it would be. He is suspended in time now - Barcelona, he thinks, and sees himself in the dark of space, time bursting from every pore, her golden light changing him into something beautiful and free, and filling the holes in his soul, even if just for an (infinite) moment. He is a man on a street corner at two in the morning. She watches, now helpless.
How long will he have her? Forever, he knows, can see the timelines as his cells change, sees them stretching into infinity, alarmingly cracked and knotted here and there, but always with her. How long are you going to stay with me? He thinks in wonder as he drifts back into his body, a new one, and the crutch of guilt and self-hatred is gone (gone, it's all gone, the man he was, and is it a relief?) and the leather jacket is suddenly oppressive rather than protective.
“New teeth, that's weird,” he says, and clicks them together, grinning in the silence of the ship. This, now, now he has no idea what is going to happen. It is brilliant! Like his new teeth and mole and new new - “Now, where was I...?”
Summary: The Doctor regenerates. Title and inspiration from How it Ends by Devotchka. Best read while listening to it.
He has never been so ecstatic to die, 679
Moments before she comes back, the Doctor is aware- painfully so- of his last heartbeats. His skin. Timelines snapping into place like synapses firing. He's got this sense that it was always going to end like this, even if he can't explain what this is yet. That this is the only way it could end.
And then, golden light, his goddess. Both expected and dreaded and nothing he'd ever considered. She was supposed to stay put, he thinks, and realizes of course she never would. He knew that when he sent her away, too. Had to have.
She destroys everything without blinking. He feels himself frozen, but inside he is fear, laughter, joy and it is explosive, manic. “I can see everything,” she says, tears and light flowing from her eyes. She is as beautiful as he's ever seen her. He sees her: grinning with a chip in her mouth. Her shoulders in a long black dress, almost as beautiful as the wonder in her eyes. Swinging from a chain to save his life. Crying over her father before letting him take her hand and take her away. Taking his hand under the icy waves of Woman Wept. He sees everything leading up to this moment: she is bathed in time and glorious, powerful and proud. He looks at her and can see everything, too.
Now she's sharing his burden. Taking it from him without his permission- the guilt he tried so hard to hold onto, the anger and grief. He didn't want her to take it but she did. She obliterates it as easily as she does the Time War, the Daleks, turning it to dust like they tried to do to her. She is unstoppable and he knows her intimately in that moment, knows that nothing will ever be so worthy of this miserable life as she is.
Rose. He has never been so ecstatic to die, because he knew it would end like this, somehow. That this body would not stay very long as long as she was in his life- not because she was jeopardy friendly, but because this body was made for grief and guilt and she would not allow it for long. He will die for her like he knew all along.
But not without her kiss. Her lips stop time, that beautiful mouth that he'd dreamed about, had admired as it spread over countless guileless smiles. “I think you need a doctor,” he almost laughs, hears Jack in the words.
On the ship, he doesn't want tell her what will happen. He is selfish and jealous. If she rejects him, he wants it to be while he is in the next body. But it doesn't matter because she doesn't understand. This life with her will stay safe in his memory if it is the last thing he does. It is. He knew it would be. He is suspended in time now - Barcelona, he thinks, and sees himself in the dark of space, time bursting from every pore, her golden light changing him into something beautiful and free, and filling the holes in his soul, even if just for an (infinite) moment. He is a man on a street corner at two in the morning. She watches, now helpless.
How long will he have her? Forever, he knows, can see the timelines as his cells change, sees them stretching into infinity, alarmingly cracked and knotted here and there, but always with her. How long are you going to stay with me? He thinks in wonder as he drifts back into his body, a new one, and the crutch of guilt and self-hatred is gone (gone, it's all gone, the man he was, and is it a relief?) and the leather jacket is suddenly oppressive rather than protective.
“New teeth, that's weird,” he says, and clicks them together, grinning in the silence of the ship. This, now, now he has no idea what is going to happen. It is brilliant! Like his new teeth and mole and new new - “Now, where was I...?”